


In the Arms of a Bear

by Terisrog



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU from the end of 8x04, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terisrog/pseuds/Terisrog
Summary: After the events at the end of 8x04, Daenerys reflects alone at Dragonstone. A very unexpected visitor may fix her heart...





	In the Arms of a Bear

**Author's Note:**

> This season broke my heart. Here's my attempt to fix it all!

— Your Grace, someone to see you.

Daenerys turned and the world tilted.

— Your Grace, he said.

That voice… It was _his_. She grabbed the air for support and fell seated on her throne. She never thought she’d hear him again. His voice nuzzled at her ears; her blood was pounding.

— Come closer, Ser, that I may see your eyes, she called faintly.

He walked towards her and knelt. He was smiling at her; she could count the small crinkles at the corner of his eyes, which were as blue as they had been: a sun-kissed blue, so far from the cold blue freezing the eyes of the Wights.

— I return to your service once more, my Queen, he said, if you’ll have me.

Tears welled in her eyes and she fell into him, grabbing handfuls of his clothes, checking that he was still warm, that his body was still there.

— Khaleesi, he whispered as her tears fell on his shoulder.

She grasped for his arms, moving them from his sides so that they were around her, and when he didn’t do anything more than rest them lightly on her back, she snapped at him:

— Hold me, Jorah! Please… Just hold me as tight as you can.

He growled a small hum of assent and as she felt his arms tighten around her she finally, _finally_ felt safe. His big paws cradled her head and the small of her back, and his strong arms encompassed her. She could smell him: pines and salt and a hint of their pasts. The warmth radiating from him was already thawing at the cold that had stiffened her since her landing in Westeros.

— Can you talk to me? So that I know you’re not a dream.

He laughed quietly and she tightened her fists in his cloak.

— Of the two of us, you’ve always been the dream, Your Grace.

She pressed her eyes in his collar.

— Not anymore. I’m a nightmare now. I’m turning mad. Rhaegal is dead, Missandei is dead, everyone I love dies.

He didn’t say that she was once more piercing his heart, that she could have refrained from reminding him once again that she didn’t love him and never would. He stood up, lifting her easily off the ground. He rocked her gently in his arms; she felt like she was dancing on a breeze.

— Close your eyes, Khaleesi. You’re flying, do you feel the wind? Do you smell the sea?

— Flying in the arms of a bear, she mumbled. He squeezed her harder and she buried her face in his neck, felt the beat of his heart and the stubble on his neck on her lips and wished she never had to leave.

— You are Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Your Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons…

— You may be the only one who knows all of that by heart.

— … the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains. Do you remember how you earned all those titles?

When she didn’t answer, he twirled her round and round until she packed a somewhat whiny complaint into his name.

— I remember, he drawled, coming to a stop. I’ve seen you step unburned from the pyre. I’ve seen you be a queen; I’ve seen you survive in the Great Grass Sea. I’ve seen you give birth to dragons, nurture them and scold them. I’ve seen you break chains. I saw you earn all of your titles with my own two eyes. And you protected the Seven Kingdoms: without you, without your dragons, without your army, the Dead would have won.

— But what was the point? she whispered dejectedly. Now they want Jon Snow on the throne. Did I lose everything for his credit? Is a hidden Targaryen to steal my crown and my people?

So what Varys and Tyrion had said before he was allowed to see Daenerys was true; Jon Snow truly was the queen’s nephew and could be seen as a rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

— Your Grace, how many of your titles did Jon Snow earn? The Great Joiner of Opposite Causes? Everyone will agree that you did more and that without you, all would have been lost. The people will come to love you as they loved you in Essos. You only have to break the wheel as you said you would. Take the city. Show them your gentle heart. Tell them publicly Jon Snow is your long-lost nephew before the rumour spreads any further, and that you decided to name him your heir.

She sighed and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin as her breath grazed him.

— You’re right. I’ll tell Tyrion you changed my mind. Just… not right now. I need to sleep. I haven’t slept since you… I haven’t slept. I do not think clearly.

— I’m sorry, My Queen…

— Just… don’t go. Hold me while I sleep.

— Your Grace? You wish to sleep standing up, like this?

— Sit down if you must, she said sullenly.

His arms were beginning to hurt and so he lowered himself gingerly onto the throne, trying to arrange Daenerys comfortably. She ignored all his efforts and straddled him, then tucked herself under his chin. Just as he thought she was drifting to sleep, she sat up suddenly and looked at him, her pupils huge and her eyes still puffy and with a shiny layer of tears.

— Jorah? You won’t go?

She searched something in his eyes he couldn’t give. She kneaded him above his heart, pleading with him.

— You won’t disappear, will you? You will still be here when I wake up, won’t you?

— Of course I will be here, Your Grace. You have not dismissed me.

He smiled at her and froze when she started to undo the lacing of his leather armour.

— I need to see, she growled.

And he was powerless to stop her.

When she got to his shirt, he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. His head was spinning. She was on his lap, undressing him, crying over him; and still she didn’t love him. How many more trials would he have to endure?

She gazed at his damaged skin, and he saw her realize that he had had to be skinned alive to come back to her after the Greyscale. Then she saw the black marks on his chest, and her fingers lingered above his wounds.

— What’s that? she whispered.

— It’s dragonscale, he mumbled. When the pyre was lit, it melted the material from my armour and the dragonscale poured in my wounds. Samwell said it seemed to have fixed the damage. And then I woke up from the smoke when the fire went out—the ashes were making me cough.

— Do you mean to say that you were burned and did not burn? she asked, her hand an inch from him.

— I don’t remember anything, only I think I remember you, whispering to me that you… Whispering that you…

His voice broke.

— I just woke up, he finished rather abruptly.

— But how? she pressed.

— We’ll never know, I’d think, he shrugged. But I think you protected me. I think the fire knew I was blood of your blood, and that you had not dismissed me. It knew I remained in your service and that it could not claim me yet.

He smiled at her and she couldn’t resist to raise her hand to his cheek and cradle him, stroking her short nails on his beard. She had missed it so much. She felt she had regained him entirely for the first time since she exiled him. The great emptiness she had felt was beginning to fill up, but she craved for him, she craved for his smiles and his eyes and his voice and…

— I’ll have to buy you another golden shirt, she mused, still playing with his beard, lost in his eyes.

They were as kind as they were blue. They had always been so kind.

He had always been there.

She had surprised a laugh out of him and she revelled in the sound, warmer than anything she had encountered in this too cold country.

— Aye, he said. I sure miss it.

He was drowning in her eyes, surely. His hands trembled on her back—surely she could feel it? It was torture and delight to hold her like this, to have her look at him thus, to see his heart’s desire in front of him and know he could never have it.

— When you were on the pyre, I said to you… I love you, Jorah the Andal.

He thought he might drown—there was no longer an ounce of air in the room, he couldn’t breathe. His head spun and he gripped Daenerys to anchor himself. Surely she couldn’t mean?...

She searched his eyes and drew him closer to her. And then, her lips hovering a spell from his own, she said again:

— I love you, Jorah.

Now he was the one crying two long tears; she kissed them away.

— I need you by my side. I wish to dance in the arms of a bear, to laugh in the arms of a bear, and to love in the arms of a bear.

He fondled the back of her head, touched his forehead to hers and said, his voice as sweet as honey:

— I’ll always love you, Daenerys.

And she kissed his mouth and his tongue and his lips; oh how she kissed in the arms of her bear.


End file.
